26 abril 99
To the child within,
To the silence that keeps me digging seashells in your empty hands,
To the teardrops scenes i can't stop streaming from your sweet eyes,
To the blank page i've become ...
A never coming back ...
No need to give up,
No wish to hold on,
What will make us cry ?
The picking up pieces ...
A lack of anything to say ...
Despair in the meaning of losing the one ...
The hate in the meaning of being the one ...
I draw a thousand mistakes across the darkened sand ...
Just to erase all the pain like an exorcising wave,
In no need to rush ...
To die ...
junho 05, 2004
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